


Can't Stop the Feeling

by imafriendlydalek



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Coming Out, Falling In Love, Future Fic, Hook-Up, M/M, Wedding Fluff, and then they stay together, kent and tater hook up at jack and bitty's wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:01:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23704243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imafriendlydalek/pseuds/imafriendlydalek
Summary: Kent doesn’t really know what he was expecting at Jack and Bittle’s wedding, but “meeting the love of my life” was not one of those things.
Relationships: Alexei "Tater" Mashkov/Kent "Parse" Parson, Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 39
Kudos: 364





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just having a lot of feelings about Kent Parson getting his happy ending too, and also Tater.
> 
> I don't know if they do this in the NHL too, but let's pretend they play a specific song every time the home team scores a goal. For the Las Vegas Aces, this song is "Can't Stop the Feeling" by Justin Timberlake, from which this fic takes its title.
> 
> This isn't beta'd. I'd planned for it to be a quick one-shot but it got away from me. Ooops?

Kent doesn’t really know what he was expecting at Jack and Bittle’s wedding, but “meeting the love of my life” was not one of those things.

He was surprised that Jack had even invited him, frankly. Maybe it had been at Bittle’s behest, after their little heart-to-heart at the SMH house. Maybe it was another step in reforging their friendship. They’ve taken a few of them, him and Jack. Lunch here, a drink after a game there. Baby steps.

This seems like a leap.

But there Kent is, in the finest Gucci tuxedo money could buy, making his way over to the bar during the reception when he lays eyes on a tall, loud, gorgeous Russian downing shots with a handful of Falconers and Samwell alumni.

Okay, maybe it’s a stretch to say they met at the wedding. They’d met before, obviously. On the ice. At the bar after a game during Operation Jack and Kent Can Totally Be Friends. At the All-Star Game. Those had been passing encounters, though. One in a crowd. They'd never really spoken before.

“Kent Parson, everyone’s favorite little rat,” Alexei Mashkov says as Kent approaches the bar. Except there’s a grin on his face and laughter in his voice, and he’s holding out a shot of _something_ to Kent in a way that looks terribly irresistible.

“Alexei Mashkov, bane of my existence,” Kent responds, reaching out to take the proffered glass.

“Only on ice, I hope.” Mashkov winks as he says it, grabs another shot glass from the line on the bar. 

He holds it out, and Kent thinks he’s about to make a toast or some shit, but instead he curls his arm around Kent’s at the elbow and Kent has to step closer to avoid being pulled forward. Somehow Kent’s arm is moving up toward his mouth before Kent even realizes, and Mashkov grins widely just before they down their shots in unison, arms interlocked.

“Aaaaaah,” Mashkov practically roars, like some sort of Viking psyching himself up for a raid. 

As if they didn’t both just chug what feels like liquid fire in Kent’s throat.

“What’s matter, little Parson? Can’t handle liquor?” Mashkov reaches out to clap Kent on the back as he sputters.

“Think it went down the wrong pipe,” Kent coughs. He knocks on his chest a few times with his fist as if that might help against the burn.

“Come, Parson, another will help.” Mashkov gestures to the line of shots on the bar, picks up a few and passes them out to the other guys standing at the bar. Presses one into Kent’s hand. He raises his own, mutters something in Russian that Kent has learned is how they say “cheers” and downs it. 

The other guys follow suit, so Kent, against his better judgement, does as well.

About twenty minutes and three shots later, Mashkov and Kent are the only guys left standing. Well, at the bar. The others have gone off to rejoin their dates, or to dance, or - in the case of some of the Samwell guys - to hit on Bittle’s cousins.

“No date, Kent Parson?” Mashkov asks with an eyebrow raised. He’s leaning with his back against the bar, his elbows propped up on the counter. He’s wearing a dark blue suit, but he must have left the jacket somewhere because he’s down to just the vest. His tie is loosened a bit, hanging a bit off-center, and the top button of his shirt is undone.

_I’d like to undo the rest of them._

The thought shoots through Kent before he has time to reel it back in. 

Where the fuck did that come from?

Kent’s been good about keeping thoughts like that tucked away. He’s learned not to let himself think that way about other hockey players - they’re co-workers, sort of, after all, and he can’t let his game get messed up by something as inconvenient as _feelings_.

But Mashkov is leaning in such an artful way, grinning down at Kent, smile crinkling the edges of his eyes, looking at Kent like Kent is the only person in the room.

It’s probably just the vodka talking. Thinking. Whatever.

“No date, Alexei Mashkov?” Kent shoots back.

“Need citizenship first, then find date.”

Kent blinks at the reply. It doesn’t make sense, but then, it’s probably the vodka talking again. He’s pretty sure that wasn’t the first shot Mashkov had had when he had come over.

“Ceremony is in three weeks,” Alexei adds.

“Cool, man, congratulations. Though I’m sure Team Russia will be sad to see you go.”

Mashkov shrugs. “Can’t play at Olympics anyway, so is not too sad.”

Kent lets out a huff. “Yeah, fuck that. Buncha bullshit, not letting us play.”

“Oh, Kent Parson is burning with patriotic drive to represent USA, fight for his country?” Alexei cracks a wide grin, and Kent has to laugh again.

“Well, I _was_ born on the fourth of July,” he shoots back with a smirk.

“Oh, I did not do so well on citizenship test. Remind me, that day is special?”

Kent can tell Mashkov is chirping, but if he didn’t know better, he might think Mashkov was _flirting_.

He’s seen it before, of course. It’s been four years since Jack came out in a blaze of glory, and just over a year since Kent came out, not quite as gloriously. There was no center ice tonsil hockey for Kent, just a quiet post on his Instagram - a photo of himself draped in a rainbow flag, a rather spontaneous decision on a lonely afternoon during Pride month. He’s become some sort of magnet for closeted players - in the NHL and other leagues as well - since then. Like he’s got some sort of VACANCY sign on his back - COME IN, WE’RE OPEN.

He’s well over it. Usually.

But he’s at a wedding, and he’s had a few drinks, so now’s as good a time as any to make ill-advised decisions.

“Not really,” Kent replies. He takes a step closer to the bar, signals to the bartender. “Can I get a water, man? And one for my friend, too.” He winks at Mashkov, who shoots him a look of faux insult.

“You think _I_ can’t handle my liquor, Kent Parson?”

“Thanks, man,” Kent tells the bartender when he sets the water glasses on the bar. Kent tucks a twenty into the tip jar before turning back to Mashkov. “No. I’m sure you can, big guy. Just want to make sure we stay hydrated. You can just call me Kent, by the way. No need for full names.”

Alexei’s lips curl in a smile, softer than the grins from before. “Alright. Kent. You can call me Alexei. Or Big Guy, I like that too.” 

Alexei lifts the glass of water to his lips, his eyes fixed on Kent, and takes a sip.

Kent’s not sure how drinking water can look so suggestive, but yeah, his pulse is definitely picking up.

“Do you now?” Kent manages to reply. It’s a miracle that he’s able to get his own glass to his lips and to take a long gulp without spilling it all over himself.

Alexei sets down his empty glass and pushes off the bar in a smooth movement, steps closer to Kent. There’s only a few inches between them, and Kent’s heart is racing. The last time Alexei was this close to him - not counting the shot they’d had earlier - Kent was getting punched in the face.

“I like this song. You dance, Kent?”

Kent shifts his attention to actually hear the music - it had been an unimportant hum, mere background noise, until then. It’s Rihanna. Kent’s had this song playing in his house so often, he’s pretty sure _Kit_ knows the lyrics.

He sends Alexei a smile. His lopsided, eyes narrowed, flirtatious smile. “Yeah, man. I dance. Do _you_?” He winks, turns, and saunters to the dancefloor. 

Only a few seconds pass before Kent feels a heavy hand brush over his shoulder. Alexei shoots him a grin, his body moving with the music. 

Somewhere in the background around them, there are hockey players and Georgians and Jack’s four hundred cousins and possibly his “uncles” Wayne and Mario, and Rihanna’s singing about how they “found love in a hopeless place,” but all Kent is truly aware of is Alexei Mashkov, two-time winner of the Selke Trophy, bumping his knees against Kent’s as they dance.

Alexei catches Kent looking and grins, his eyes dark as he inches closer. A hand settles on Kent’s hip; Alexei’s waving the other around in what’s probably supposed to be some sort of dance move.

The song morphs into the next, and Kent can’t help but let out a laugh. He’s pretty sure the DJ didn’t choose it intentionally, but he’s also pretty sure half the Falconers are glaring at him right now - it’s the song the Aces have been playing each time they scored on home ice the past two seasons.

“Arrrr, not this song,” Alexei groans, but there’s a smile on his lips and he uses the hand on Kent’s hip to turn Kent around so they’re back to front. His other hand settles on Kent’s other hip, their hips bumping into each other. “This okay?”

Kent can feel Alexei’s breath on his neck. It’s been a while since he’s danced like this with anyone. He sways into the motion.

“Definitely,” Kent replies. His eyes dart around the room and, yeah, there’s definitely a few people watching them. “This okay for you, though?”

He turns his head to look back at Alexei just in time to see him shrug. 

“Like I said, three weeks I have citizenship, then I can date.”

“That still doesn’t make any fucking sense, man. But, uh, your teammates are watching us.”

“Team knows I am gay. Can’t be gay in Russia. Once I am American, I can be out. Like you and Jack.”

Suddenly the music is much too upbeat and happy for this conversation, and it feels surreal to be talking about such heavy topics while grinding up against each other in the middle of the dancefloor.

“Shit, man. That’s heavy,” Kent says, not sure how else to reply. 

“Is okay. Is what it is, as they say.”

Kent turns his body so he’s facing Alexei now. “You wanna go somewhere quieter? It feels weird talking about this stuff while they’re playing the song they always play when I score.”

The corner of Alexei’s mouth tugs upward until he’s smirking. “You think you going to score, Kent Parson?”

Kent rolls his eyes at Alexei, but at the same time, he brings his hand up to tug Alexei’s tie straight. “Hey, man, I’m trying to be supportive and shit, but if that’s how you want to play…”

Alexei’s eyes flick down to the hand on his tie, then back up to meet Kent’s. He steps closer, close enough that Kent has to tilt his head up to keep his gaze because, fuck, Alexei is tall.

“Is how I want to play. Let’s go somewhere quieter. Talk about stuff.”

Kent flashes Alexei a grin. “Alright, lead on, _Tater_.”

They end up out in the gardens. There’s a hedge that runs along the perimeter of the gardens, and they wander along it, chatting about the process for becoming a citizen, about Alexei’s family in Russia, about Kent’s family in Albany. About the closet. About coming out. About hockey, about the playoffs that neither of their teams got particularly far in this past season. And of course, about Kent’s cat. Eventually they reach the end of the hedge, where there’s a gazebo tucked in the corner. It’s up on a bit of a hill, and the view over the ocean from it is incredible. 

Kent’s got his hands in his pockets as they stand, side by side, shoulders just barely brushing, looking out over the water. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes as he exhales. When he opens them again, he sees Alexei watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“What?”

Alexei smiles at him. “Is nice view.”

“It is. Don’t get to see the ocean a lot out in Nevada.”

Alexei chuckles, and a hand settles on the small of Kent’s back. “Not what I meant, but yes, the ocean is nice too. Of course, I have view of water from my apartment, so maybe I am spoiled. Focused on other view instead.” He leans back, his gaze raking over Kent’s backside to settle on his ass. 

It’s almost comically exaggerated, the motion, and Kent can’t tell if it’s on purpose or if subtlety just gets lost in translation with Alexei. 

Kent lets out a laugh. “You’re a piece of work, Mashkov.”

He could let it slide, keep things at this lighthearted flirtation. It would probably be the wise choice - they are still opponents, after all, and hooking up with fellow players can get messy. As Kent well knows, considering that the other half of his most famously messy relationship is inside with his new husband. 

But hey, they’re at a wedding, which seems like the perfect setting for a hookup, a quick bit of fun. And Alexei, well. Kent lets his eyes slide over Alexei's body, from his tousled hair and thoroughly kissable lips, the slightly dopey eyes, the crooked nose of a defender who doesn’t shy from a fight, the way his vest hugs his back, emphasizing thick arms that Kent suddenly wants nothing more than to feel around him and a very fine hockey ass. This could be fun, that much is sure.

Kent rolls his head from side to side, feels his neck pop. Yeah, he’s not sober enough to drive, probably, but he is good enough to make informed decisions. Alexei looks like he’s completely sober at this point. Damn Russian metabolisms. 

He leans back against the banister of the gazebo and slides along the railing until he’s face to face with Alexei. It earns him a raised eyebrow. 

“How do you like the view now?”

“Much better than view from my apartment.” Alexei smirks, and his hands come up to settle on Kent’s hips. They’re warm, and his grip is firm. The touch sends a surge through Kent’s body, synapses firing. 

He reaches up to run his fingers along the length of Alexei’s tie, that damn tantalizing tie that’s been calling him all this time to just _tug_ on it already, to reel Alexei in. 

“Good, cuz I’ve got a room upstairs and I’d hate to think that I paid all that money for a subpar view.”

“Oh yeah, it is nice room?” Alexei crowds forward, stepping into Kent’s space enough that Kent can feel the heat coming off his body. Which is nice, because there’s a chill in the breeze coming in off the water.

Kent shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s nice enough. Don’t get too excited about hotel rooms anymore these days.”

“I understand that,” Alexei says with a chuckle. “So much time on the road, new room almost every night. At least no snoring roommate here?”

“That depends.” Kent curls his lips in a toothy smile, giving Alexei’s tie the slightest of tugs so that Alexei has to lean down, his face almost at Kent’s level. “Do you snore?”

“Sometimes. Mostly after I have been in a fight.”

Kent lets out a chuckle. “I’ll try not to punch you, then.”

“You inviting me to stay for the night, Kent Parson?”

Kent raises an eyebrow at Alexei, lets go of his tie. “I thought that’s where this was headed?”

Alexei’s right hand comes up to run through Kent’s cowlick as he quirks a sime. He’s just inches away, close enough for Kent to feel his breath when he says, “I kiss you, okay?”

“Very okay,” Kent replies, sliding his hands around Alexei’s waist to pull him closer.

He’s expecting Alexei to surge forward, his grip on Kent’s hip tightening as their tongues slide together.

That’s not what happens.

Instead, Alexei’s other hand comes up, both carefully cupping Kent’s face as he leans down and closes the space between them. 

Alexei’s lips are warm and soft, his kisses are slow and - to Kent’s great surprise - incredibly tender. 

A sigh escapes Kent before he realizes it. He slides one hand to the small of Alexei’s back, just under his vest. Alexei follows the motion, closing the gap between them, pressing against Kent where he’s leaning against the railing.

Kent darts his tongue out, licking at Alexei’s lips, which part in response. One of Alexei’s hands slips around to the back of Kent’s head, his thumb rubbing circles over the hair at the base of his neck as the kiss deepens.

“Fuck,” Kent grinds out when they finally come up for air.

“Is funny word, fuck,” Alexei chuckles. His hands are back on Kent’s jaw, cradling his face. “Can be really good, can be really bad.”

Kent shoots him a smile. “Really good,” he says before crashing his lips against Alexei’s again.

Their second kiss isn’t as quiet or as careful. It’s rough, it’s slick, it’s hot but there’s no sense of urgency. They take their time, exploring each other’s mouths, hands wandering over each other’s bodies, testing what the other responds to. 

It’s only when Alexei rolls his hips into Kent’s, their erections grinding against each other, that Kent finally pulls away.

“How ‘bout we take this inside, big guy,” he drawls as he slides his hands down Alexei’s back, over his ass, to his hips, and pushes lightly to put some space between them. “As much as I love making out like teenagers, public sex just doesn’t quite hold the same appeal. Besides, I’m pretty sure they have surveillance cameras out here.”

“Fair point.” Alexei takes a step back, pulling out of Kent’s embrace, but he stretches out a hand as if he’s offering to hold Kent’s hand. “My jacket is inside. We stop and get, okay?”

Kent hesitates for a moment before deciding, fuck it, why not? He reaches out to take Alexei’s hand, and there they go, wandering hand in hand back to the country club’s ballroom. “Hey, we should say bye and stuff anyway.”

“Who knew, little rat could be so polite?” Alexei says it with a grin, so Kent opts to take it as a chirp rather than an insult.

“Yeah, well, I try,” he says. “Things haven’t been easy with me and Zimms, but we’re getting there, and I don’t wanna fuck it up by doing something that could be easily avoided like leaving without saying goodbye.” After a moment of consideration, he adds, “Maybe fucking his teammate isn’t the best way to rebuild bridges.”

Alexei pulls Kent to a stop and slides a hand along Kent’s jaw to tilt his face up. “I think Zimmboni will be happy if his friend is happy. Two friends happy? Extra bonus.”

Kent’s about to shoot back a retort when Alexei leans down to kiss him softly. Their lips linger against each other, a few more quick kisses before Alexei finally stands to his full height again.

“Come on, you must be freezing, poor desert boy,” he says with a grin.

It takes two steps for Kent to catch up - damn those long legs. “Gets way colder at night in the desert.”

“I have never been, just for games, then to hotel, sometimes bar, never in desert.”

“It’s nice. You should come sometime,” Kent hears himself saying. “I can show you some places.”

What the fuck, Kent? This is supposed to be a hookup, no strings. Where did that come from?

But Alexei’s face lights up at the offer, his grin practically from one ear to the other, and he looks like it’s Christmas and Easter and his birthday all rolled in one. 

“I would like that,” he says. He reaches out to take Kent’s hand in his again, giving it a quick squeeze. “I would like that a lot.”

“My buddy Swoops has a cabin out in the sticks, he’ll probably let us borrow it for a few nights.” Kent’s really not sure when this turned into “planning a weekend getaway” and he’s pretty sure he’s getting ahead of himself, but he doesn’t know what to make of it all. Instead, he recounts a story of when he and some of the other Aces went out there to celebrate their second Cup win and he and Scrappy ended up drunk in the lake.

“Ha! I did same after we win tournament when I was in junior league in Russia, but in fountain!” Alexei beams at Kent, and Kent feels his breath hitch.

This is probably the point where he should get out of here, break off whatever this is turning into before it gets out of hand. At least, that’s what the voice in the back of his head is telling him to do. 

But Alexei’s hand is warm in his, and his laughter sends some sort of warmth coursing through Kent to pool somewhere down around his belly, and Kent finds that he actually really doesn’t want this to end.

Of course, that’s when they reach the ballroom again. Kent untangles their hands as they walk in and nods toward the door on the far side of the ballroom that leads to the lobby.

“Meet you over there in ten?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Alexei shoots him another grin before he heads off in search of his jacket, and Kent is left standing alone, not sure what to make of this feeling.

“Making friends, eh?” A voice startles him out of his thoughts, and Kent snaps his head around to see Bad Bob Zimmermann right behind him, grinning devilishly.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Bob, almost made me shit myself, sneaking up like that.” Kent grabs at his chest, pretending to have a heart attack.

“Hmmm, it’s a ploy to take out the Aces’ star player so the Falcs have an easier shot at the Cup next season,” Bob says with a wink.

“I always knew they called you _Bad_ Bob for a reason.” 

“Guilty as charged.” Bob drops the grin and rests a hand on Kent’s shoulder. “I’m glad you came, son. It means a lot to Jack, having you here.”

Kent lets out a breath. “I’m glad he invited me.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kent catches Alexei laughing with a cluster of Falconers. Bob must have followed his gaze, because he lets go of Kent’s shoulder and says, “Well, don’t let me keep you for anything, but don’t be a stranger, eh? Maybe give me a call next time you guys play the Habs? Me and Alicia would love to have you for dinner.”

“That’d be great, Bob,” Kent says, and he means it.

There aren’t too many other people at the wedding that Kent knows, besides the Samwell kids he met in passing at that kegger. He doesn’t need to say goodbye to them, he decides. 

That leaves only Jack and Bittle, the couple of the hour, who are still - again? - out on the dancefloor. Man, Kent really needs to hand it to Eric - the Jack that Kent had known years ago would not have been found anywhere near a dancefloor, let alone on it and actually looking like he’s enjoying himself.

“Mind if I cut in?” Kent asks when he reaches them, which is silly because it’s not even a slow song and he wants to talk to both of them, actually.

It does get both their attention, though, so mission accomplished.

“You heading out?” Jack asks.

Kent nods. He’s not sure what to offer as his excuse - it’s still pretty early, after all - but apparently Jack has seen through him already because he’s got that grin on his face, so very much like the one Bob had just had.

“Saw you dancing with Tater earlier.”

“He’s a good dancer,” Kent deflects. The snort from Bittle is not lost on him.

“You both are,” Bittle says.

“Figured you two might get along,” Jack says with a lopsided grin. “Off the ice, at least.”

“Hey, he wants to pick me up and man-handle me off the ice, that’s a-okay with me,” Kent shoots back.

“Well great, that’s a mental image I’ll never be rid of,” Bittle says, palming his face.

“Whatever floats your boat, Ken.” Jack chuckles and shakes his head in amusement. “I’m glad you came, man.”

Kent nods. “Me too. Thanks for inviting me.” He reached out to knock a fake punch against Jack’s arm.

“That’s what friends do, Parse,” Jack says, replying with a soft punch to Kent’s arm. “See you next season, eh?”

“You can count on it. Enjoy the honeymoon, kids. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a date with a hot defenseman.” Kent shoots them another grin, which earns him a groan from both Bittle-Zimmermanns. He shoves his hands in his pockets and makes his way over to the door.

Alexei gets there at the same time as Kent, his jacket slung over his shoulder. Damn, he looks like he could be on a catwalk.

“Hey,” Kent says when they’re standing in front of each other, not quite managing to come up with something better.

“Hey to you,” Alexei replies. “I have jacket!”

“I can see that,” Kent laughs. “So, you still wanna go upstairs?”

“You change your mind, Kent Parson?”

Kent rakes his eyes over Alexei’s body, darts his tongue out to moisten his lips. “Nope,” he says as he looks up again to fix Alexei’s gaze.

It has the desired effect, which is to leave Alexei fumbling for words and flustered. After a moment, Alexei stands up a little straighter, strides past Kent and toward the door with resolve. He turns once he’s a few feet away to look at Kent over his shoulder. “You coming, Kent Parson?”

“That’s the idea,” Kent says, his voice low, when he catches up with Alexei at the stairs.

***

Kent wakes up the next morning with a wicked hangover. It takes a moment for his brain to come online, but when he does, he realizes that beyond the pounding in his head, he feels rested and recharged like he hasn’t in a long time. He’s pretty sure it has nothing to do with the softness of the mattress or the lulling sound of the ocean outside his window.

He rolls over to find a very tousled mop of dark hair peeking out from under the blanket. The blanket shifts slightly as Alexei breathes, snoring ever so quietly. 

Kent considers kissing him awake, but he desperately needs some Advil and a pitstop first. He makes his way to the bathroom, sidestepping the trail of clothes on the floor. His reflection in the mirror is a terrifying sight - that damn cowlick strikes again, and even the rest of his hair is sticking up in all directions. He tries in vain to tame it, gives up and opts for a quick shower instead. He towels off quickly, fills a glass with water and takes it and two Advil with him back to the bed. Alexei is still asleep as Kent sets them down on the nightstand next to his head.

Kent rounds the bed and slips back under the covers, wriggles in close to Alexei. He slips his arm around Alexei, pulling their bare bodies close together - neither had bothered to put any clothes on again before they’d fallen asleep. He’s half-hard just thinking about how they'd ended up here, but he somehow doubts Alexei will mind waking up to a dick pressed up against him. 

“Hmm, good morning,” the blanket mumbles. 

Kent doesn’t bother to reply, just starts trailing lazy kisses at the closest bit of skin that he can reach, which happens to be Alexei’s shoulder blade. There’s a scar along it, the telltale mark of a past surgery, and Kent makes a note to ask Alexei about it.

Alexei shifts, leaning into the touch, grinding his ass softly into Kent with a low moan. “Hmmm, is best way to wake up.”

“Could make it even better,” Kent says as he trails his hand down Alexei’s stomach to wrap around his hardening cock. It earns him another low hum and roll of Alexei’s hips. “Brought you some Advil and water if you need it.”

“Hmm, so thoughtful. Kent Parson is best.” Alexei stretches to reach for the nightstand, pulling out of Kent’s embrace in the process.

“Thanks, I get that a lot,” Kent chuckles as he rolls onto his back. He watches as Alexei pops the pills in his mouth and downs the water like a shot, and he can’t help but huff out a laugh at this ridiculous man.

“And so humble.” Alexei’s grinning as he rolls onto his side so he’s pressed up next to Kent.

“That I do _not_ get a lot.” Kent hisses as Alexei nudges his head to the side so he can nip at the soft skin of his throat.

“Make big promises, must make big deliveries,” Alexei murmurs into Kent’s neck. His hand settles on Kent’s stomach, fingers splayed across his abs.

“Is that some sort of Russian proverb?”

Alexei pulls back to grin at Kent. “No, is wisdom of Tater.”

Kent lets out a groan. “Well it sounds terrible. Now, do you want morning sex before you go or no?”

Alexei’s voice is quiet when he asks “You getting rid of me?”

He looks so taken aback, so disappointed. So very much not what Kent was trying to achieve. 

Kent reaches over to lay a hand flat on Alexei’s side, his thumb rubbing circles over Alexei’s skin. “Figured you can’t stay forever. Hell, _I_ can’t stay here forever.”

Alexei looks out into the distance for a moment before focusing on him again. “Kind of wish we could.”

A rush of warmth surges through Kent, and he can’t fight the smile tugging at his lips. He’s never had anyone say anything like that to him before, at least not say it like they actually meant it.

He tilts Alexei’s chin to press a soft kiss on his lips. “I do have to get home to my cat.”

“Ah, Princess Purrson, of course,” Alexei sighs. “She will be happy to see you. I will be sad to see you go.”

Kent’s not sure how to respond to that, so he just lets his head slump onto Alexei’s chest.

“I’m supposed to fly back this afternoon, but I’m pretty sure the cat sitter could watch her an extra day or two,” he finally mumbles into Alexei’s pec. For good measure, he gives the muscle a wet kiss, rakes his teeth over the exposed skin. 

It earns him a soft hiss from Alexei, whose eyes slide shut as Kent trails more kisses down his stomach.

“I like this idea. We find you new flight at breakfast, _da_?” Alexei groans. “Always think better with full stomach.”

“I’ll bet,” Kent chuckles as he shifts to straddle Alexei’s legs. “I always think better after a good fuck,” he adds with a grin.

A startled harumph escapes him as Alexei grabs hold of his shoulders and rolls them so that Kent is pressed into the mattress by Alexei’s bigger body. 

“Then you not getting fucked right, Kent Parson. No one think straight after a _really_ good fuck.”

“Hmm, don’t think there’s anything straight about what we’re doing here, big guy,” Kent practically purrs.

Alexei rolls his hips, eliciting a groan from Kent. “Is how I like it,” he says with a wink. “So, I show you. Won’t be thinking at all.”

There’s a wide grin on Alexei’s face just before he disappears under the sheets, and Kent can’t even come up with a witty retort before Alexei’s lips are wrapped around his dick.

If there’s one thing Kent hates, it’s admitting when others are right.

***

Kent calls his cat sitter, rebooks his flight and watches in horror as Alexei inhales enough breakfast for three. He’s no stranger himself to loading up, especially in the off-season when their diet plan isn’t quite so strict, but this is just _ghastly_.

“You gonna eat that?” he chirps, pointing at the last slice of what was once a pile of bacon.

“Yeah,” Alexei says around a mouthful of wholewheat toast, but Kent nabs it anyway and shoves it in his mouth with a grin.

“Little rat,” Alexei chirps, pressing his knee up against Kent’s under the table. 

Kent casts a quick glance around the dining room. There are a few people from yesterday’s reception nearby, but they all seem too wrapped up in their breakfast to be paying attention to them. It’s an old habit - Kent hasn’t been out long enough to have stopped looking over his shoulder, and besides, Alexei isn’t technically out at all. Not that Alexei seemed all that worried about hiding yesterday.

Kent gathers his things and checks out of his room - Alexei wants to go home to get changed and then show Kent around Providence a bit. They’re just about to leave when Jack and Eric wander downstairs, looking a little worse for wear.

“YEAH, GET IT, BITS!” someone shouts from the far end of the dining room. It’s that friend of Jack’s with the weird mustache and the even weirder name.

“Shitty, hush!” Bittle reprimands, his cheeks flushing brightly. Yeah, Kent can understand what Jack sees in the guy - he is pretty fucking cute.

“Still here, Tater?” Jack looks from Alexei to Kent with a grin. 

“Just heading out now,” Kent replies nonchalantly. “Don’t tucker yourself out too much on your honeymoon, Zimmermann. Aces’re coming for you this season.”

Jack scoffs. “Oh yeah, so what’s this?” He nods at Kent and Tater. “Infiltration tactic?”

“Yep,” Kent replies, popping the p. He slides an arm around Alexei’s waist, tucks his hand into the back pocket of his pants. “Taking out the defense.”

“Oh, you taking me out?” Alexei asks, looking down at Kent with a smile. “Great, I know nice place. Excellent seafood. Bet you don’t get that in desert.”

“Apparently my ploy is just to feed him until he can’t skate anymore,” Kent chuckles. He turns himself and Alexei and nudges him toward the door. With a halfhearted wave over his shoulder, he says, “See ya, Zimmermann-Bittles.”

“See ya, Parson-Taters!” Bittle calls after them.

“Ha! Parson-Taters!” Alexei booms. “I like this. Sounds nice.”

Kent pinches Alexei’s ass where he still has his hand in his pocket. “Sounds like those frozen French fries you heat up in the microwave. My mom used to make those all the time growing up. Barf.”

“Aw, Kent Parson, so sentimental.” Alexei wraps an arm around Kent’s shoulder as they head out the door to where their Uber is waiting.

***

The seafood is, as promised, great. So is the view of the river from Alexei’s apartment, and the sex, and the tour of the city that Alexei drags Kent on. He’s way too enthusiastic for someone who had at least six shots of vodka yesterday, but Kent can’t help but suspect that he’s just always that way. And he also can’t help but smile fondly at it.

Because yeah, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the guy. There’s something about those hangdog eyes, the booming laugh, the unapologetic flirting, the way he gets quiet when they’re talking about serious matters. 

Kent’s put a lot of effort into keeping people at arm’s length these past years. Besides Swoops and Scrappy, he doesn’t have too many people he’d really call friends. His longest relationship since the draft was four months. So maybe it’s a mid-life crisis or some shit like that - he’s pushing thirty, after all. Maybe it’s because the last person he [thought he] loved just got married. Maybe it’s because he’s finally out and can be open about who he loves now. Whatever it is, Kent finds that he doesn’t have the energy for all that effort anymore.

Instead, he hauls Alexei in for one last kiss before he gets out of Alexei’s car at the airport to catch his flight back to Las Vegas.

“I’ll see you next week, yeah?” 

Alexei had booked a flight earlier in the day to come see Kent. He has a few commitments in the coming week, so it will be six days before they saw each other again. 

“Definitely. Text me when you land.”

“Will do. See ya, Tater.” Kent takes a deep breath and steps out of the car.

“See ya, Parson.”

Kent watches Alexei’s Land Rover disappear into traffic before he heads into the terminal. He does not text Alexei when he lands - he texts as soon as he is through check-in and security.


	2. Chapter 2

Kent’s apartment feels vacuously empty when he gets home. Kit’s there, of course, which is great, and her soft trilling helps fill the silence. But it’s too big, too empty, too quiet, too sleek in a way that has never bothered Kent before. 

This used to be his fortress of solitude, his place to get away from the noise of hockey and the media and life. Suddenly he wants nothing more than a bit of noisy life.

Six days, he tells himself. Six days until Alexi’s visit. He can handle that.

He slumps onto his couch with a loud sigh. Eventually he ends up on Instagram, where he’s got a new follower - @mashkovtater70. He follows back.

Alexei has posted a picture of the view from his living room window. There’s an airplane in the distance against a bright blue sky. 

_excited for my trip soon_, the caption reads.

There’s that warm feeling again, surging through Kent’s body. 

He pulls Kit a little closer so she’s settled on his chest. She chirps in protest, a pro forma objection at being moved, before curling up again quickly - it is her favorite spot, after all. 

He snaps a quick selfie and posts it with the caption _Home again with Queen K. Great things planned for this off-season._

Tater likes it almost immediately. 

It kicks off a back and forth between them and a series of probably-not-as-subtle-as-they-think photos. Alexei posts a picture of his bag sitting by the door, Kent posts a picture of himself leaning against his convertible as he’s filling the tank. The next day it’s a picture of a bunch of helium balloons at the supermarket, a giant pink 5 in the center, captioned _countdown_. Kent replies with a picture of Kit sitting on his alarm clock. Kent posts a picture of his failed attempt at sunny-side up eggs - two of the yolks broken - and Alexei posts a selfie with _eggs Benedict_ captioned _learned from the best, thanks @omgcheckplease_.

Kent opens up his messenger app. _You’re definitely going to have to make those for me next week, big guy._

Alexei’s reply comes almost instantly. _Anything for you, little Parson ;)))_

He’s grinning like a fool, alone in his kitchen with his cat running figure-eights around his ankles. 

Yeah, Kent is in deep, deep trouble. 

***

The days go by slowly until it’s finally Friday. Kent leaves way too early to pick Alexei up at the airport, and he ends up hanging out at the Starbucks near baggage claim. In hindsight, putting more caffeine in his body was a poor choice, because now he’s jittery from nerves _and_ espresso. He gets spotted by a few fans who come over to him to ask for autographs, and for once, he’s actually glad for the distraction. He ends up chatting with them for a few minutes - they’re college students from Buffalo, traveling around the country on their summer off. One is wearing a Sabres snapback, which Kent knocks off his head and scrawls GO ACES -KVP across the logo with a grin. The kid is so starstruck that he doesn’t even complain.

He’s so wrapped up in joking with the kids that he almost doesn’t see Alexei strolling toward him, duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a broad grin on his face.

“Making friends, Parson?”

“Holy shit, Alexei Mashkov,” the kid with the hat says. He looks like he’s about to shit himself.

“Dude, you’re like my favorite player,” the other kid says. This one’s got a Ramones shirt on, which is a strange combination with his carefully coiffed hair and gleaming white sneakers.

“Are you guys, like, friends?” hat kid asks, gesturing between Kent and Alexei.

“You could say that,” Kent drawls, his gaze fixed on Alexei. He’s wearing a dark gray v-neck tee with a small Falconers logo over the heart and a pair of black cargo shorts, and it really shouldn’t look so hot but damn, the shirt is tight in all the right places and the ensemble is just so _Tater_.

“I never get to see city when we are only here for games. Parse offer to show me the sights. Sorry he ruin your hat. Want me to fix?” Alexei offers with a devilish grin.

In the end, the hat reads GO <strike>ACES</strike> FALCS -KVP :( -Mashkov :) They pose for a selfie with the kids, then say their goodbyes and head toward the parking garage.

“I see you came dressed for the heat,” Kent notes as they walk through the terminal doors. All these years in the desert and he still hasn’t quite gotten the hang of that first blast of heat. It’s a good thing he spends most of his time in a cool ice rink.

“I may melt soon. Not built for such heat.”

Kent wants to make an innuendo-laced joke, but there are still too many people around when they get to the valet stand. Instead, he opts for the safer reply. “At least it’s a dry heat, not like the humidity you guys get on the coast.”

The valet brings Kent’s car around, and Alexei lets out a hearty laugh. “Of course Kent Parson drives a red Porsche.”

“I like good engineering,” he shoots back with a shrug as he slips a tip into the valet’s hand. He presses the button to put down the convertible top - it’s a nice day for top-down driving. It’s only when he’s sitting in the car next to Alexei that he realizes that a hello kiss will have to wait now that the top is down.

If Kent speeds a little on the way home, it’s only in part because he’s showing off his car.

***

Kent already knew he was well and truly fucked by how much he liked Alexei, but the nail in his coffin comes when they walk into his apartment. The sound of the keys in the door signals Kit to come running, of course. She shrinks back for a moment at the sight of a stranger, as she usually does, but she doesn’t run and hide. 

“Queen K, finally I can meet you in person. In cat-son? In real life.” Alexei is kneeled down, one hand held out for Kit to sniff but not insisting on contact. Kit seems to accept the introduction, because she trills softly before boofing his hand with her head. Before Kent can even process what’s going on, Alexei’s got Kit wrapped around his shoulders, rubbing her head into his jaw.

“Okay, she _never_ lets new people do that,” Kent says in disbelief as he toes off his shoes. He reaches up to scratch his cat’s head. “Traitor,” he tells her.

Alexei grins at him. “I think she likes me.”

“You’re wearing her like a scarf. I think she _loves_ you.” The words shoot out of Kent’s mouth, and as soon as he realizes what he’s said, he wishes he could reel them back in.

“Oh yeah?” Alexei reaches up to scratch the underside of Kit’s jaw, which earns him a loud purr. He’s looking Kent straight in the eye when he says, “Feeling is quite mutual.”

This is the point where Kent would try to backtrack, but he’s trying to “make progress,” as his therapist would say, so instead he steps closer to Alexei and reaches out to curl his hands around his hips.

“I don’t think I’ve said hi properly, yet. What a terrible host I am.”

Alexei smiles softly and pulls Kit off his neck, setting her on the ground despite her protests. He brings his hands up to cup the back of Kent’s head. “I forgive you, maybe,” he says as he leans down to kiss Kent.

It starts off chaste enough, but soon Kent is backing up against his living room wall, Alexei’s body pressed against his, their hands roaming. Alexei’s mouth is on Kent’s neck, Kent’s hand is on Alexei’s belt buckle. 

“You want a tour of the place or something?” Kent says, his voice low.

“Not really,” Alexei murmurs into the underside of Kent’s jaw as his hands slip around Kent’s back to cup his ass. “Maybe just bedroom?”

“Yeah, okay. C’mon.” 

***

Alexei’s five-day visit flies by far too quickly. They spend three nights out in Swoops’ cabin, sleeping in, lounging around in their underwear (“don’t get dongs on my couch!” Swoops had made Kent promise), making out, hiking in the nature preserve and basking in each other’s company.

It’s great, but Kent can’t seem to shake the little voice in the back of his head that says _what next?_

He certainly hadn’t been thinking about what would come next when they’d been making out at Jack’s wedding (well, okay, he’d literally been thinking about _coming_ next). Mashkov was just supposed to be a hook-up, nothing more. Now he looks at Alexei, who grins back at Kent like Kent hung the stars, and his heart feels light and he knows that this is definitely much, much more.

Kent steps closer to Alexei, fists his hands in Alexei’s shirt (a Falconers tee again , because that seems to be all Alexei owns, that asshole. Kent tried to make him put on one of his Aces shirts, but it turns out that they’re all at least two sizes too small). 

“What do we do when the season starts?”

“Same thing we did last week,” Alexei replies, as if it’s the obvious answer. “Flirt on Instantgram, send text messages, maybe do dirty phone calls on Skype.” 

Alexei waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Kent can’t help but burst out laughing.

“What are you, like eighty-five? ‘Dirty phone calls.’ Geezus.” Kent pauses before adding, “So we keep going?”

Alexei looks down at Kent. “Of course keep going. What else? Or, do you not want?”

Alexei starts to pull away, but Kent tightens his grip. “No, no, that’s not what I want. I mean, I don’t want things to end. I just… I’m not very good at this. My relationships just always seem to end.”

“All relationships end, Kent. Either you break up or you die.”

“Wow, okay, that’s a depressing way to look at it. Very Dostoevsky.”

“Is true, though. Everything end with death. We have to see what we do in the time we have before then. Is reason why when I see something I like, I go for it. No sense in waiting, is just waste of time. Like you, Kent. I saw you at Jack and B’s wedding, I like you, I want to kiss you.” Alexei leans down to kiss Kent softly. “I want to keep kissing you.” 

He kisses Kent again, this time not as softly. When they finally come up for air, Kent admits, “I want that too.”

“Good,” Alexei says with a smile. “Then we keep kissing.”

On the last evening of his visit, Kent takes Alexei out for a night on the town in Vegas, which of course means there’s a few articles in TMZ and such about it the next day. Someone from Buzzfeed actually links up their Instagram posts and puts them together in one of those “articles” they love - The hat kids in the airport had posted the selfie they’d taken, and that’s in there too. Kent’s gotta hand it to them, they sure don’t miss a beat, those gossip blogs. Well, except for one important detail. “Ace Kent Parson and Falconer Alexei Mashkov Have the Perfect Hockey Bromance,” it’s titled. 

Alexei’s not too worried about it when Kent brings it up as he’s packing. Kent is sprawled out on the bed on his stomach, his feet dangling in the air crossed at the ankles as he’s reading on his phone. He might also have sneakily been taking pictures of Alexei bending down to look at when he gets lonely.

“You think we should tone it down? Someone’s bound to figure it out soon enough.”

Alexei puts down the shirt he was folding and reaches over to run his fingers through Kent’s hair. “I don’t mind. I tell you, lots of times. Once I have citizenship, I can tell everyone. Ten more days. Then I can wave American flag and rainbow flag.”

Kent can’t help but burst out laughing at the idea of it. “I don’t think America is quite as accepting as you think it is,” he points out. “There wasn’t exactly a ticker tape parade when I came out.”

“No, have to win Cup for parade. This year Falconers’ year.” 

“I think you meant to say Aces,” Kent chirps.

“I did not.” Alexei bends down to press a kiss to the top of Kent’s head before picking up the shirt again. “You are coming to ceremony, yes? Is in Boston.”

Kent smiles and pushes himself up so he’s kneeling. He reaches over to grab Alexei’s shirt and drag him in for a long kiss. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Lex,” he mumbles against Alexei’s lips.

***

Kent ends up sitting next to Georgia Martin, the Falconers’ AGM, as Alexei swears his oath and becomes an American citizen. 

“I must say,” Georgia says quietly as they take their seats, “of all the people I thought Alexei might invite, you’re probably the last person I’d expected. It’s a good thing he gave me a heads-up or I might think I was getting Punk’d.”

They’d talked about it beforehand, of course, Kent and Alexei. It was a matter of time, after all, until people started putting two and two together and realizing that Kent and Alexei were more than just “hockey bros.” That was the thing about being out - it meant Kent didn’t have to hide anymore, but it also meant everyone he was spotted with was speculated about and could potentially be targeted.

Alexei didn’t mind that, though. He had planned to come out anyway as soon as he had his citizenship, even before he had met Kent.

“I see how happy Zimmboni is, and Little B. They can come to events together, to family skate, B comes to games and sits with other partners. I want that,” he had explained one evening during his visit as they’d lain in bed half-asleep. He propped himself up to grin at Kent. “Okay, maybe not exactly same thing with you - enemy team not allowed at family skate. Even if you do need all the practice you can get.”

Kent had scoffed at the chirp, but he could see the point Alexei was making. There was definitely an appeal to not hiding - that was why Kent had come out, too, after all.

So they’d made a plan, they’d each spoken to their team’s management, statements were prepared and plans were laid out. And here they were.

“What can I say,” Kent replies to Georgia with a smirk, “I’m irresistible.”

She huffs out a quiet laugh and shoots him a withering look. “I can resist you just fine, Parson. But I must say, I do appreciate what you’ve done. It takes a lot of courage, coming out as an active player.”

“Well, you know. At least I didn’t have to be the first.” Kent doesn’t feel like continuing this line of conversation, so he tries to steer it toward more comfortable territory. “So, I hear you guys got yourself a new backup goalie off the Aeros. Snowy retiring soon?”

“Hardly,” she shot back. “But I do know that Haslett had a shutout last time he was up against the Aces, so I’d wipe that grin off my face if I were you.”

Kent likes her, he decides. He can see why Alexei and Jack are always going on and on about what a great organization the Falconers are.

They keep up an easy banter as they wind down the clock until the ceremony starts, and soon enough, all the new citizens waiting to be sworn in file into the crowded hall. He spots Alexei in the third row, wearing a gray suit and a blue tie. At least it’s not Falconers branded. Some B-List politician comes out and drones on about America and hooray, land of the free and be all you can be and Kent zones out a few minutes in. He tunes back in when it’s actually time for them to speak their oath, the moment that citizenship is actually conferred. 

He’s holding his breath, he realizes, and forces himself to exhale.

A cheer goes through the crowd, and a number of people are waving little American flags. Despite his earlier jokes, Alexei has opted not to bring a flag, American or rainbow. Instead he turns, spots Kent in the crowd, and mouths _I love you_. 

That’s a hundred times better than a flag.

They find each other again outside in the crowd gathered in front of the hall. A photographer from the local newspaper is milling around, snapping pictures for a feature on new citizens. Alexei’s got a huge grin on his face as he sweeps Kent up in a hug that’s almost tight enough to hurt.

“Gotta breathe, big guy,” Kent protests half-heartedly, at the same time bringing a hand up to settle between Alexei’s shoulder blades.

Alexei pulls back just far enough to smile down at Kent before he leans in for a kiss.

Kent’s pretty sure he hears a shutter clicking a few dozen times. There’s definitely going to be a bunch of articles and chatter about this later, but he doesn’t care. Alexei is there, Alexei loves him and he loves Alexei. He feels like his heart could burst with joy and he doesn’t give a flying fuck if anyone else knows.

Scratch that - Kent Parson wants the world to know.


End file.
